


Atmosphere

by radiosunnydale



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, F/F, adhd!willow, softball!willow, tutor!tara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 01:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18272969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiosunnydale/pseuds/radiosunnydale
Summary: It's not that Willow doesn't TRY to pay attention in class. Her ADHD makes it hard for her to care about anything besides her friends, parties, or softball. But when her grades are putting her spot on the team in jeopardy, she needs to get a tutor, and fast.





	Atmosphere

**Author's Note:**

> My very first W/T fic.

Tara Maclay never understood why people always used “quiet” to describe her. She didn’t talk much, but the definition didn’t really end there. When you called someone quiet you insinuated that they had an invisible aspect to them; you meant that they were so soft that everything they did flew under everybody’s radar. It was the adjective-of-choice whenever others described her and she hated it.

 

Of course, she probably only hated it because quiet was exactly what she was.

 

She was in the back of her algebra class in her self-assigned seat. She opened up her journal to a brand new page. _People That Can Be Summed Up with One Word_. And on the next line, _for example: quiet_. The silence of the classroom was quickly broken as the door swung open.

 

_Willow._

 

That was another reason she enjoyed the last row: she could ogle at Willow Rosenberg during class without being creepingly obvious.

 

She was the day to Tara’s night. Everything that Tara was, Willow wasn’t. She was social and loud and excited about everything. So excited! Tara often wondered what it was like to be so entranced with everything in the world. The only thing she was ever really excited about were books, and, of course, Willow.

 

Willow was sandwiched between her friends from the softball team. They were the strongest clique in the school and very rarely would you ever catch one of them without a few of the others. Tara watched as the room brightened from the redhead’s smile, how the atmosphere in the room refused to settle so long as she was there. She turned to the next fresh page. _People That Cannot Be Described._

 

_For example: her._

 

⛯

 

“Willow Danielle Rosenberg!”

 

_Shit._

 

Willow had gotten in trouble before. By the time she was ten, she had lost count of the times she went home just to be scolded about a phone call from the school. She never learned properly and didn’t care. All of her energy went into partying and softball, she preferred not to waste time worrying about discipline or grades. Still, it wasn’t the kind of thing she liked coming home to.

 

“I just got a call from Coach Jorgenson,” her mother stood there with a furrowed brow and hand on her hip. “She says your spot on the team is in jeopardy.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means that if you don’t get your grades in order, you’re off the team.”

 

“What?!” She dropped her backpack down. “They can’t do that!”

 

“Yes they can, Willow, you’re nearly failing.” She replied. “If you don’t bring your algebra average up by the end of the week, your dad and I are letting her take you out." Willow winced at that. She knew she had a few bad grades (okay, maybe more than that) but she never let it get this severe.

 

“Well, what do I do?”

 

“I don’t care, just make it your priority.” She told her. “Form a study group.”

 

“I dunno, Mom, my friends aren’t exactly better off than I am.”

 

“Then find the smartest kid in the class and let him tutor you,” She shook her head, leaving the room.

 

That wasn’t exactly easy, either. In order for Willow to find the smartest kid in class, she’d need to have paid attention. And that certainly wasn’t a practice she was fond of.

 

The next day she entered algebra class and made the effort to observe the people in the class. _It must be somebody quiet_ , she thought to herself. It was always the quiet ones that did the best, right?

 

She saw a girl in the back row that she recognized, although she couldn’t pinpoint how. It definitely wasn’t from softball or parties. Still, she knew this girl was quiet. She was closer to invisible than Willow could ever imagine anyone to be. She never spoke or made her presence known. What a draining life that must have been.

 

“Hi,” Willow said.

 

“Oh.” Tara looked up wide-eyed. “Hi.”

 

“I’m Willow,” “Tara,” Her face began to look flush and hot, followed by a lull of silence.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

 

“What?” Tara sat up. “No, you’re not bothering me. You never bother me. Not that we talk, it’s just that...in general. You don’t bother me.”

 

“Yeah, gotcha,” Willow nodded, not getting any of that. “I know we don’t really know each other but I’m in need of a favor.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I, uh, kind of need someone to save my ass.” She explained. “I’m about to flunk out of this class and if that happens then I won’t be allowed on the softball team. Coach says we can make playoffs this year and I don’t want to miss that. Not that they’d make it there without me.”

 

“Y-yeah, you’re really good.”

 

“Anyway, then,” Willow dismissed with the wave of a hand. “You’re good at algebra, right?”

 

“Do you need me to help you?”

 

“Yeah, exactly.”

 

“Okay,” Tara nodded. “Um, are you all caught up for the quiz on Friday?”

 

“There’s a quiz on Friday?” Tara couldn’t help but offer a small laugh, expressing both sympathy, and anxiety. “How far in the unit have you gotten to?”

 

Willow grimaced and took out her algebra book, which was still in its original wrapping. Tara quirked an eyebrow in amusement and grinned once more.

 

“Can I give you my number? And we can set it up?” Willow asked.

 

“Sure,” Tara flipped to a brand new page and let her scribble the digits down.

 

“This week would be really nice, you know. I’d really like to stay on the team and I was never really good at math.”

 

“Yeah, it’s not for everyone. But I’m sure you’re not as bad as you seem.”

 

“We’ll see.” Willow nodded. “Text me. Thanks again.”

 

“No problem.” Tara felt her ears get hot as the redhead walked away. She had joined some of her teammate friends and continued to chat throughout class while the blonde tried to catch her breath.

 

⛯

 

It was two hours since Tara had sat down to do her homework, a task that was typically done in class. Quadratic formulas were the farthest thing from her mind when Willow’s number was in the same notebook she wrote about her in. It was very difficult to reel yourself back into square roots after a conversation with Willow Rosenberg--the girl that Tara had a stack of sonnets about.

 

Was this all some dream? The girl you’ve been crushing on since freshman year doesn’t notice you out of the blue. It wasn’t a dream, though, because every time she peeked in her journal at home the number was still there. She had the self-control to wait until later that night to text her crush. She anxiously remained at her desk while typing up a response.

 

_**Hey, it’s Tara...this is my number.** _

 

She immediately backspaced because no shit it was her number. How was she supposed to seem intellectual and attractive in her presence if she couldn’t even keep it together over text? _Not that it matters_ , she thought to herself. She preferred historical fiction but knew enough about fairytales to know that princesses don’t fall for peasants.

 

Still, there was no harm in wearing her nicest sweater the next day. The sweater that made her eyes look especially blue. All morning, she anticipated that atmospheric change to arrive in her day again. It came swinging through the library door midday.

 

“Tara!”

 

“Hi,”

 

What are you doing?” She walked over and sat across from her. “It’s lunch hour.” She was being a bit too loud for a library but Tara assumed she didn’t know the rules here, anyway.

 

“Y-yeah, I’m always in here,” she explained. “Did you bring your book?”

 

“My what?” Willow furrowed her brow and did the quivery bottom lip thing that she hoped would pass off as adorable.

 

It did.

 

“That’s fine, we can share mine for now.” Tara nodded and turned the book. “Can you see?” The redhead shook her head before getting up and moving over to sit next to Tara. She began flicking through pages as she stared. Tara was in a close enough proximity to smell her hair and experience the strawberry aroma. She burned that into her brain so she would remember to write it down in her journal later.

 

“Can we start at chapter six?” Willow asked, bringing her back to Earth.

 

“Six? Are you sure?” She quirked her eyebrow. “The quiz on Friday is over nine.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m still way behind.”

 

“Not that behind. Three chapters isn’t a whole lot.”

 

“It’s plenty to worry about when you’re exceptionally stupid.”

 

“You’re not stupid,” Tara replied. “Algebra is hard. You’re probably just not a good test-taker. It’s fine, lots of people are the same.”

 

Willow smirked. “How’d you know I bombed my tests?”

 

“There’s a reason I’m tutoring you, isn’t there?” She watched her lean back in her chair, fiddling with the pencil in her hand as her smile faded away.

 

“It’s just difficult,” The redhead shrugged. “Math...or, uh, academia isn’t really my thing. I have ADHD and everything in my head just goes a hundred miles a minute. I used to take medicine for it but it made me lose my appetite and my mom said I'm still growing so I need to be eating enough. It's like my brain has this little remote and it keeps on flicking between channels. It's a really cool thing to have whenever you have a lot of friends or during a game where you need to keep up. I just don't do too hot when it comes to school.”

 

“I understand.” Tara sat up straight.

 

“I understand ‘I understand’ or I’m babbling ‘I understand’?”

 

“It’s okay, having a learning disorder is nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

“It's hard, you know. If something isn’t important I don’t pay any mind to it.”

 

Tara sighed and waited for Willow to meet her eyes. “Well, you’re here, so it must be a little important.” She smiled and that and turned back to the textbook. Willow thought for a moment and realized that she was right. She _did_ try.

 

It’s not like she voluntarily only paid attention to Tara for the first twelve minutes then started folding notebook paper into airplanes, making a little air force military right there at the table. By the end of the lunch hour, she was practically talking to herself about factoring polynomials as Willow continued doing rapid spins in her chair to make herself dizzy.

 

“Have you ever been downtown?” Willow tried to focus her rotating vision. “There’s this little guitar store that I love. It’s called Guitar Center or something like that. They always let me use their cool amps in the back.”

 

“Right,” Tara shut the book, finally giving in. “I think that’s enough for today.”

 

“Nice! Although, I think it was enough twenty minutes ago.”

 

“I didn’t push you too hard, did I?”

 

“Maybe a little. But not nearly as much as in class.”

 

“Your work wasn’t bad at all,” Tara said. “We can pick up where we left off tomorrow and you’ll be just fine for the test on Friday.”

 

“Thanks, Tara,” Willow swung her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

 

It took all she had for Tara not to light up like a Christmas tree at the way Willow said her name. She had to be cool; she just shook her head and watched her walk out the door. Their interaction echoed throughout her mind harmoniously until she got home. That’s when the anxiety began to set in. Did ‘see you around’ mean that Willow was over the tutoring? What if Willow genuinely just wanted to talk to her? It was a delicate, rare miracle but if that was the case then she definitely had ruined it. She just seemed so uninterested.

 

But that must not have been the case, because for the rest of the week they met up daily in the library for lunch to study. It wasn’t until the third day that Tara noticed Willow being able to grasp the concepts, and when she did, she felt overwhelmingly proud of her.

 

The day of the quiz they ran over everything once, twice, three times. Just to be sure, Tara said. After school, Tara got in her car just as her cell phone dinged.

 

_**(Willow, 4:01 pm)** Hiii Tara_

 

Uh oh. That was a lot of i's. It gave the blonde butterflies (more like bats) in her stomach but she soon remembered her game plan to remain cool.

 

_**(Tara, 4:02 pm)** Hey, Willow._

 

_**(Willow, 4:03 pm)** Can we keep doing the study halls next week??_

 

_**(Tara, 4:04 pm)** Sure, no problem._

_**(Tara, 4:04 pm)** How did you do on the quiz?_

 

 _ **(Willow, 4:05 pm)** Idk we _havent _gotten our scores back_

 

_**(Tara, 4:06 pm)** Right, but how do you think you did?_

 

_**(Willow, 4:07 pm)** Uhhhh_

 

_**(Tara, 4:08 pm)** That doesn’t sound too good._

 

_**(Willow, 4:09 pm)**  Well we’ll just have to wait and see_

_**(Willow, 4:09 pm)**  You text so proper haha_

 

_**(Tara, 4:10 pm)** Sorry that I prefer to be literally correct._

 

A few minutes passed. During which, Tara nervously rocked in her desk chair. Was that a bitchy thing to say? She didn’t intend for it to be but it certainly appeared that way now that Willow had stopped replying. Eventually, a reply did come through--in the form of a call. She took a deep breath and pressed the little green phone.

 

“Uh, hello?”

 

“Hey, it’s Willow.”

 

“Hey," The nervousness on the other end was audible. “What’s up?”

 

“I don’t think I did very well on that quiz,”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I just...I got distracted.” She admitted. “I forgot everything you taught me. I forgot which formula to use and what to plug in, and I totally forgot what those tables meant. Tara, I probably failed!”

 

“You didn’t fail, Will.” She insisted. “You know more than you think you do.”

 

“But what if I did fail? I tried. Like, really, really tried. It was the best I could do and I still probably flunked.”

 

“You didn’t flunk,”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

Tara sighed. “You did just fine. And if you didn’t, then we can work harder. No one said it’d be easy.”

 

They continued talking for a little while until Willow said she needed to go. They said goodbye and Tara listened to the dial tone for a few seconds as though to hang onto their conversation.

 

They didn’t hear from each other all weekend. Monday afternoon they received their quizzes back at the end of class. Tara approached Willow, score in hand. “Hi,” She gently greeted. “Hey,” Willow’s head was resting in her hands. The paper was face-down on her desk right as she peered up at the taller girl. From the dimness on her eyes, Tara knew it wasn’t good.

 

“What did you make?” Willow murmured.

 

“98,” She responded. “What about you?” She watched Willow sigh loudly and flip over the sheet quietly, so as not to draw attention from their peers to the big red number written at the top.

 

**52.**

 

“Will…” Tara slowly picked it up.

 

“I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me.” People began to shuffle out of the classroom as the dismissal bell rang, but the two girls remained.

 

“I wasn’t expecting a perfect score or anything, but…” Tara said.

 

“I told you, I got distracted.”

 

"How?”

 

“I don’t know.” Willow looked back up with glassy eyes. “It just happens. I worked really hard and I still did terrible, just like I told you I would. Now I’m gonna get kicked off the team,” She buried her head in her arms. “I’m so sorry I wasted your time.”

 

Tara scurried over to sit beside her. “You didn’t waste my time, Willow,”

 

“It’s okay, Tara. You’re a really smart person, you shouldn’t have to worry about me being on the softball team. I’m sure there are much more important things going on in your life.”

 

“Not really, and if there is, I don’t want to be doing them.” She watched Willow wipe her eyes with her sleeve like a child. “Willow, I told you, we just have to work harder. You still have the rest of the week to make it up.” She continued sniffling and Tara couldn’t help but be appalled at the sight in front of her: Willow Rosenberg seemed so _weak_. Any other day of the year you would find her laughing with her friends and turning heads her way. But here she was now, a little girl in an algebra classroom practically weeping on Tara’s shoulder. And there was nothing she could do about it.

 

⛯

 

The two of them met the following day in the library. Tara broke down all of the mistakes that Willow had made on the quiz and told her that there was a test on Thursday over the material. If she passed, she would remain on the team. The next period, Tara was sat in her social studies class as her phone buzzed. She subtly slid it under her desk and turned it on.

 

 _ **(Willow, 1:25 pm)** I _dont _think_ im _gonna pass that test_

_**(Tara, 1:26 pm)** Of _course _you will. You’re working hard, Will._

_**(Willow, 1:27 pm)** Are u sure_

_**(Willow, 1:27 pm)** We’re only studying an hour a day. I mean _i _study @ home but its more helpful when ur there_

An idea sprouted in her mind and she decided to type it out and send it before she backed out.

 

_**(Tara, 1:29 pm)** How about I come over and help you study there?_

_**(Willow, 1:30 pm)** Would u really do that?_

_**(Tara, 1:31 pm)** Sure. That’s what friends are for._

 

She felt her heart sting at that. Friends. That’s all they were. Of course, that’s all they were. Willow never even gave her the time of day before her spot on the team was at stake. Once she passed the test she would forget all about Tara and life would continue as it always did. So yes, they were just friends. If that.

 

_**(Willow, 1:32 pm)** Ur the best! Do u wanna come over tonight?_

_( **Tara, 1:33 pm)** No problem. What time?_

 

They made plans and waved politely to each other in algebra later that day. It didn’t matter, though. It still gave Tara tingles in her stomach because if you would have told her two weeks ago that she’d be going to Willow Rosenberg’s house late at night she wouldn’t have believed you in the slightest. And yet there she was at eight p.m., knocking.

 

Willow swung the door open. Although a new accessory made it look nothing like Willow at all.

 

“Glasses,” Tara blurted out. “You’re...your glasses.”

 

“Hello to you too,” Willow snorted.

 

“Sorry, hi,” She stammered. “But, um, glasses!”

 

“I wear contacts to school,”

 

“I didn’t know that."

 

“Don’t tell anyone. Our little secret, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Come on in,” Willow led her in and up the stairs.

 

Willow’s bedroom was so much different from Tara’s. There were clothes all over the floor and softball portraits cluttered the walls. One similarity that she did notice, though, was the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.

 

“Hey, I have those, too.”

 

“Oh, I love them! I put them on when I was like seven and they’ve been up ever since.”

 

“You put them up?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Willow sat on her bed. “Stacked a bunch of books on a dining table chair to reach the top.”

 

“What about your parents?”

 

“They’re both psychologists, I didn’t see a whole lot of them growing up and my babysitter didn’t really pay too much attention. She said I was too much for her to handle.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,”

 

“Don’t be,” She waved off. “Anyways, should we get started?”

 

“Yeah,” Tara opened her backpack and took out the textbook. Willow’s eyes lit up.

 

“Oh, oh, that reminds me!” She ran out of the room before the blonde even had time to process what she had said. She came back with a textbook in her hand, unwrapped. “I opened it!”

 

Tara couldn’t hold back the giggle that emanated from her mouth. “I’m proud of you,” She said and felt her heart swell because she truly was.

 

They studied on her bedroom floor for a few hours, taking a few breaks to order pizza, or for Tara to sneak a glare of her while she concentrated on the work. She noticed how she gently sunk her teeth into her bottom lip if there was a particularly difficult problem; how she’d softly push the glasses up the bridge of her nose with her fingertips.

 

Once they finish studying, they laid out on her carpet eating pizza. They gazed at the plastic stars together in silence.

 

“What’s it like to be so popular?” Tara finally asked.

 

“Popular?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What do you think I know about being popular?”

 

Tara turned her head to her. “Essentially everything.”

 

“‘Essentially?’”

 

“Like, basically.” She clarified. “Basically everything.”

 

“I’m not popular,” She insisted. “Just...social.”

 

“Right, social, what’s that like?”

 

“It's okay,” Willow shrugged. “You get to be loud and make people laugh and everyone knows who you are. I could never imagine being one of those quiet people at our school.”

 

“Like who?”

 

“I don’t know,” She said. “Like you.”

 

“Like what?” Tara stood up instantly.

 

Willow crouched up, resting her chin on her knees. “Like you,”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

 

“You’re quiet, Tara.” She explained as though it was obvious. “What did you think it was supposed to mean?”

 

“Why are you being like this?”

 

“Why are _you_ being like this? Are you seriously that mad?”

 

Tara’s eyes welled up because yes, she was that mad. When you called someone quiet you meant that they had an invisible aspect to them, that they were so soft, everything they did flew under your radar. She clenched her jaw and couldn’t stand to be in the room anymore. She grabbed her backpack and left despite the audible footsteps following her. By the time Willow reached the bottom of the stairs, the door was slammed in her face. She was thankful that her parents were at a conference and wouldn’t be asking her what all of the commotion was about, then turned around to go up to her room in case they came home early.

 

There wasn’t anything wrong with being quiet, and she never said there was. She just told her that she couldn’t imagine herself like that. That wasn’t rude...right? It didn’t matter now. She was probably going to fail the test and get taken off the team. And it was all because Tara decided to be a brat when Willow needed her most.

 

 _Screw Tara_ , she thought when she reached her room. She began to kick the things she’d left behind, the thought of ruining her stuff easing her frustration.

 

She kicked her algebra book. I shouldn’t have even asked her for help.

 

Then the calculator. There was no reason for her to act like that.

 

Her notebook. She probably just thinks she’s better than me.

 

A leather notebook.

 

_A leather notebook?_

 

Willow’s brow furrowed as she bent down and picked it up.

 

She’d seen Tara carry it around school before but it never came out of her bag during their study sessions. She flipped through it and landed on the page where her cell phone number was, then turned. She found a collection of stanzas written in familiar, neat handwriting.

 

Atmosphere

Oh, how the air changes when she enters a room

No, not in reference to her aroma

Nor how her voice spreads between the walls

But how her energy,

So red and divine

So hot and glowing like the fire she erupts within me

The aura she passes onto everybody else that is present

How lucky I am to breathe in her atmosphere

My Willow.

 

Although the last line doesn’t matter very much because no one would need to read much more of the poem to know who it was about. Willow read it over and over again because each time she did, she comprehended another layer. The more that she learned, the harder it became to fight the feelings for Tara she had been rejecting.

 

She knew she was gay. She played softball, for God’s sake! How her friends thought they could set her up with any of the guys in her classes was beyond her. She never said anything, though. She was the daughter of two psychologists and yet she knew they’d try to talk her out of it. Not to mention, would she still be popular--er, social--if people found out?

 

It didn’t matter now. She needed to come out. She had to because Tara was surely in love with her and what if they could make it work and what if this was fate all along and what if…

 

Her face grew cold as she remembered that Tara had just stormed out in tears. Because of her.

 

How could she say such a stupid thing to a girl that loved her? How could she be so ignorant as to not see all of this before?

 

The next day, they didn’t meet in the library. They didn’t pay each other so much as a look until after algebra class. Tara was quickly putting up her stuff when Willow walked over to her, leather journal in hand. “Tara?”

 

“What?” She harshly responded. Willow felt her heart drop a bit at the tone and the fact that Tara was avoiding eye contact. Instead of speaking she just gently placed the journal onto the desk between them. It caught the taller girl’s eye and she froze, looking up at her with wide eyes.

 

“You left this…” Willow cooed.

 

“I-I…” She mumbled. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

 

“It’s okay, we haven’t talked all day.”

 

“No, I mean, last night.” She said. “When I just...ran out like that. It wasn’t fair to you.”

 

“I’m sorry that I called you quiet,”

 

“No, no, don’t be. It wasn’t...you’re not wrong. I am quiet.”

 

Willow sucked on her teeth as she saw blue eyes stare back at her, now a bit glassy and not quite as bright. She remembered that those were the same eyes that loved her and had helped her and were proud of her, once upon a time.

 

“I read it,” She whispered.

 

“Which part?”

 

“Guess.” She saw Tara do an internal eye-roll and sighed. “The part about me.”

 

“It’s all about you,” She scoffed.

 

“I was worried that was the case, that’s why I only read the one page.”

 

“‘Worried?’”

 

“Yeah,” She nodded. “If I turned that page and there was another poem or letter or drawing or...something about me, then it’d be true. It’d be true that you’d like me and it’d be too good for reality.” Tara raised her eyes back at Willow and felt the relief flood her body. She exhaled and a smile appeared without her noticing until it was matched.

 

“When you’re social,” Willow continued. “You kind of share everything with your friends. You share the same people and experiences and all of that stuff. I’ve known that I liked you but I didn’t ever consider a relationship because it didn’t seem possible, you can’t share that kind of thing. I wouldn’t know how to be a girlfriend. I’ve never had something that was just mine.”

 

“I am, you know.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yours.”


End file.
